


Trial by Friend

by CanterburyTales



Series: Adventures in Austenland [2]
Category: Austenland - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Nobody Expects The Spanish Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanterburyTales/pseuds/CanterburyTales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what would you do if your friend with the Austen obsession and the disastrous romantic history came back from England with a Darcy-alike? </p><p>Molly's not going to let Jane make another mistake. Set directly after the end of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial by Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Austenland. It was very distracting. Especially the way it ended with the door open and Molly on the way...
> 
> (Movie heavy; the book Henry is very different IMO, though I couldn't resist the shot at forever line.)

Molly leaned against the doorpost and put her head to one side. She’d definitely give a seven for technique. Top marks for appearance too: he had leading man good-looks in a definitely yet indefinably English style (was it the layering thing, or that rumpled jacket or the cheekbones? Maybe all three.) But...kissing English guy and dumped Darcy crap? Does. Not. Compute.

Her eyebrows raised as the stranger moved on to Jane’s neck. Heck, maybe a nine. Ten out of ten for enthusiasm, for sure. The man kissed like he hadn’t kissed for years. So did Jane, but in her case she actually hadn't. 

Molly was just wondering if she should cough (or possibly turn the fire extinguisher on them) when the man caught sight of her. He stopped kissing Jane’s neck and (uh-oh not good) his first instinct, suppressed quickly, was to pull away. Then Jane looked up and rushed over, face shining with happiness, pulling the guy over by the hand.

“Molly! I…” and the words were lost in a blush and a smile up at the stranger. “I forgot the tea. Come in. This is Henry.”

Henry smiled, put out his hand and then suddenly seemed to take in what he was seeing.

“I’m sorry,” he said as Molly took his hand, “have you been standing here long? We didn’t see you.” _No shit Sherlock._ “You must sit down.” Molly appreciated the concern, because, yes, actually, she was ready to fall down right there. He ushered her past the couch and straight to the table to the upright seats. Her back was saying, _well done, stranger, you chose correctly_ , but her suspicions were swelling faster than her feet.

He pulled out a seat for her, then sat to her right. As Jane put her mismatched cups and saucers (okay, they were pretty cool, but Molly wasn’t encouraging her) on the table, Henry looked up into Jane's face. The look that passed between them was pure adoration. Molly’s heart threatened to melt, but she squashed it firmly.

“Might I ask when the baby is due?” Henry asked. He was only being polite, Molly was sure, but he sounded like he really wanted to know. And he wasn’t handsy with the bump when he asked. Also a plus.

“Babies. Twins. I’m almost 37 weeks.”

“So full term.” Okay, Molly was going to have to put a stop to this. This guy knew too much to be on the level.

“I didn’t know Austenland did souvenirs,” Molly said as Jane brought the tea and sat down. She hated to see Jane’s face fall but it needed to be done. Jane had been hurt too many times. This guy was too much, with the accent and the looks. He could hit her hard, so hard Jane would never get back up. Molly was not going to let that happen.

Henry’s face lost some of its openness. He glanced quickly at Jane then back at Molly. Molly could tell that under the table he had taken Jane’s hand.

“Don’t go all Lady Catherine de Burgh,” Jane half pleaded and Molly almost rolled her eyes. Jane had got all the Darcy crap out of her room, and that was great. But her head was still stuffed with it.

“As I get older,” Molly said, a little tartly, “it really pisses me off that all the mothers and older women in Austen are ineffectual or bitches or both.” This was an old argument. “Even Edgeworth is better.”

Unexpectedly, Henry butted in. “In that case,” he said calmly, “let’s just call you Lady Delacour and carry on.” Despite herself, Molly was impressed. The guy knew his stuff. Maybe he could get Jane to read _Frankenstein_ finally...but this was getting away from the point.

“Who are you, exactly?” Molly watched him carefully as he answered. Though if he was an actor, it probably wouldn’t do any good.  

“My name is Henry Nobley. I’m thirty-six and a professor of history in the University of Manchester.”

“Where did you and Jane meet?” Jane groaned but Henry turned to her.

“No, it’s a fair question.” He turned back to Molly. “We met at Austenland. My aunt runs it, I’m afraid.” Molly rather enjoyed the “I’m afraid.” If it was her aunt, she’d be all “I’m afraid” too.

“But you’re not an actor?”

“No.”

“Do you have any id?”

“Okay that's it!” Jane was standing up, her hand clasped in Henry’s hugged to her body. “NO, Molly. You are not going to give Henry the third degree!”

Before Molly could open her mouth Henry was on his feet and at Jane’s side, their joined hands hidden between them. With his free hand Henry lifted Jane’s chin and smoothed out her forehead. “I'm don't mind. I've nothing to hide.”

Jane nodded then shook her head. “But it isn't fair to you. You’re only just off the plane and…”

“It’s okay, I promise you.” A smile crept across his lips and spread to hers. “I’m a little relieved to know someone’s looking out for you.”

A look passed between them, and they sat down. Jane silently poured milk into the cups while Henry took a purple passport out of his pocket and placed it gently on the table in front of Molly. As Jane poured the tea he took his wallet from his breast pocket (old battered leather, Molly noticed) and placed two cards on either side of the passport. Then he sat back, picked up his tea and raised his eyebrows at Molly. Molly refused to be put off, by that or by the stare Jane was directing her from the other end of the table. She picked up the cards and examined them.  A university id card. A driving licence.

She put them down, opened the passport and turned to the photograph. Jane groaned again. "Seriously?" Molly threw her a look.

“Okay,” she said to the man beside her. “Hi Henry.” She put down the passport and picked up the university id. “Is this a real university? I've never heard of it.”

For the first time she had floored him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and considered. “Our communications people would be very disappointed to hear you say that,” he said at last. “The University of Manchester, or part of it to be exact, was established in 1824. It’s older than MIT or Berkeley.” Molly had already noticed the date on the card. She waited for more. “It’s part of the Russell Group.” That meant nothing to Molly. Henry’s slight frown deepened and he dug into his pocket. “I’ll show you the website...ah. Have you by any chance heard of Prof. Brian Cox? He’s at Manchester.”

Molly did know of Prof. Brian Cox. Phillip (Molly’s husband, one true love and a complete geek) loved shows about science and space. Molly had spent many relaxing evenings watching the pretty pictures and letting Prof Brian Cox’s enthusiasm wash over her head.

“He doesn’t sound like you. His accent I mean.”

Henry looked up from his phone. “You’ve got a good ear, most Americans don’t notice. He’s from Manchester. I’m from Cambridge. My parents were both academics.” Molly noticed Jane’s growing interest. Clearly they had talked about none of this. Typical Jane.

"And your parents are?" Not that she gave a damn but Jane would probably like to know. 

His amusement was clear now. "My father was Dr. William Nobley. He died last year. My mother is Emily Nobley but publishes as Dr Emily Austen." He clearly saw Jane's reaction from the corner of his eye. "No relation. And, for completeness sake, I have a younger brother Edward." 

"Not a doctor?" 

“Actually, he is. Look,” and Henry put the phone in front of Molly. “Here’s the website.” He clicked a link and then another. “There I am.” Henry sat back and left the phone in front of her. “It’s all there - my job, my research, everything.”

Molly flicked through it. It looked legit, with his picture right there on the page. Her concern that this guy was going to sponge off Jane or was planning to defraud her of her savings  (ha! a little late for that!) was gone. Now there was just the other question.

She put down the phone and checked out the driving licence. “So you live here?” she asked, waving the licence at him.

“Yes. Let me show you.” Henry retrieved his phone and started clicking again. “Here it is,” he said finally, putting the phone in the middle of the table. Google street view. A two-story red brick house, the last in a terrace, with an octagonal bay window and a garden left run a little wild beside it. Steps up from the gravelled front led to a black-painted door, brightened by stained glass.

“Oh!” said Jane, leaning in. Henry smiled at her. Molly thought there was something tentative in his smile.

“Not Regency, I’m afraid. Solid Victoriana.”

Jane shook her head and smiled. “I’m not a total obsessive.” Molly coughed. Jane ignored it. “It looks amazing.”  

Molly decided it was time to get back to business. “So what’s in there?”

Henry’s brow crinkled again, as if wondering what she was getting at. “Er, the usual. TV, stereo, far too many books…”

“Wife? Kids?” 

Henry’s face resolved into an “ah”.  “No. No wife, no kids, no girlfriend.”

Molly was conscious of Jane's stare being upgraded to glare. “Looks a big place to live in on your own.”

“It is, yes.” Henry’s eyes were fixed on the phone display. Molly was annoyed to notice a swoop of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. Right up to now he seemed the perfect guy for Jane. Now for the fatal flaw.

“You're right. I didn’t buy it to live in on my own.” Henry looked up from his phone with an air of resolution and lifted Jane’s hand, back in his, onto the table. The other hand joined it as he looked straight into her eyes. “This might be too much to tell you all at once, but since... “ He took a breath. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in three years,” he said, glancing over at Molly and back at Jane. “Before that I was in a relationship for a long time. Almost seven years. That’s when I bought the house.”

He took another long breath. “Sophia. She worked in publishing. I met her when her firm were considering turning my PhD thesis into a book.” A swift small smile. “They did. I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me. The book and Sophia.”

“What happened?” Jane asked softly. “Brazil?”

“You remember,” and a smile showed briefly on his lips, then faded. He fixed his eyes back on his fingers, wound together with Jane’s. “Yes. Looking back, we were dreadful together. She alienated my friends, we had terrible fights, but I loved her. I thought I loved her. I wanted us to get married, have kids. I thought...anyway, I was in Switzerland lecturing when I got an email. She’d been sleeping with my best mate behind my back,” the smile this time was a bitter one, “and had decided to go away with him. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since.”

In the silence Jane’s wooden Regency style clock chimed gently.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said at last.

“What for?” Henry asked, looking up from his and Jane’s hands clasped together. “About Sophia? It was the best thing she ever did for me. For asking? You were right to. Who the hell is this guy kissing Jane? Exactly the right question to ask. That's what a good friend does.”

He glanced across at Jane and the sadness was swept away, leaving an almost impish look. “And while I'm telling the truth about me, I should warn you I’m pedantic and I read too much and I'm irritable when I feel out of my depth.”

“Wow, you really weren’t acting at all, were you?” and the laughter in Jane’s voice suddenly made Molly think, _you know, this could definitely work out_.

“No. It was all me, for better and for worse. One more thing,” and Henry looked down again at their clasped hands, and his thumb gently stroked Jane’s fingers. “I’m looking for a shot at for ever. I can’t do flings, I never could.” He glanced sideways at Molly, sitting with her mouth open. “I want to take it slowly, I won’t ever have it said that I pressured her.” He turned to look at Jane, who was equally open-mouthed. “I have no expectations...I just wanted you to know.”

He searched her eyes then must have found what he was looking for, for he smiled and his face was transformed. Her smile mirrored his and their gaze intensified, as if there was no-body else in the entire world but the two of them.

“Oh, My, God. Un-be-lieve-able.” Molly said loudly and sat back in her chair.  Shocked out of their trance, both sets of eyes turned to her. “Isn’t it a bit late to take it slow? You flew on a plane from England to New York with her!”

“Well, not exactly,” and Jane voice was low and a little embarrassed. “He only arrived this morning. I’d kind of rejected him before my flight.”

“You...he flew over…” Molly had no words and threw her hands up into the air instead. “Incredible. You” and she stabbed a finger in Henry’s direction, “are as bat shit crazy as she is” and the finger jabbed towards Jane. The two glanced at each other and neither seemed very upset about being bat-shit crazy. Not upset at all.       

"So do we have your blessing?" and Henry was definitely teasing her now. Or half teasing? It was a little hard to tell.

"Sure, you have my blessing, you crazy kids." Molly picked up her cup and drained the last dregs of tea. “Well, I gotta go.” She started to get up and Henry was there at her side, pulling back the chair and taking her arm. Molly could definitely see what Jane saw in him.

“You’re good with pregnant women,” she said bluntly, since why the hell not at this stage.

“Practice. All my friends have kids now,” he said, and there was a touch of wistfulness in the answer that hit Molly right in the pregnancy hormones. _Okay, not going to cry, not going to cry_.

“Be good to her,” she said instead, pointing an insistent finger. “You I will talk to later,” she said to Jane before enveloping her in a hug.  

She was closing the door behind her, when she thought of something. She popped her head back around. “Don’t forget to eat,” she said, but Henry and Jane didn’t answer. They were kissing again.


End file.
